


Quiet Storm

by casey270



Series: A New Start [2]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Isaac Carpenter (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M, PWP, Quiet Sex, Slow and Easy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 06:07:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://tjrbigbang.livejournal.com/">TJRBB</a>.  Thank's to the mods and those responsible for all the work you put in, keeping this organized and making it a completely enjoyable experience.</p><p>This is a time stamp for my GRBB <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/707582">A New Start</a>, but it's not necessary to read that one to understand this.  This is slow and easy Carliff PWP, with maybe a few little hints of self discovery thrown in.</p><p>The art post for this can be found <a href="http://creativmind1281.livejournal.com/15002.html">here</a>.  It's by the amazingly talented <a href="http://creativmind1281.livejournal.com/">creativemind1281</a>.  She captured the quiet, uncluttered feeling I wanted this fic to have so perfectly that it almost made me cry the first time I saw it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I was told that I should warn that there is a tiny, little bit of toe sucking in this.

 

Tommy likes watching the reflection of the flames dancing on the glass of wine. There’s something calming and centering in it. He supposes that if he really wants to think about it, he could figure out what it is. It’s enough, though. It’s enough to just feel it and let it wash over him, the same way the warmth of the fire washes over him.

The power’s been out for a couple of hours now, but he’s not in a rush to go start the generator. Neither is Isaac, apparently. He’s glad he’s past the point of panicking when storms take the lines down. He’s past the point of thinking he needs electricity to survive, too. He knows he can make it fine for a day or two without it, so a couple of hours is more of a reprieve than a burden. The little noises he hears now are so much easier to focus on without the distractions of modern life in the background.

He notes the absence of the hum and thrum of electricity, but only as far as it lets him pick up the gentle tapping of the snow and sleet on the windowpanes. Hearing that and seeing the sway of the evergreen branches in the wind makes it feel even cozier inside. Tommy can’t help shaking his head over the idea of _cozy_ appealing to him. A few months ago he would have gone out of his way to avoid anything close to homey and _intimate_ , but then he was avoiding a lot of things. 

Mostly, he was avoiding himself.

He likes himself a little better now, though. 

He knows he’s comfortable with himself for the first time in his life. He’s alright with having the time and quiet to be able to listen to what’s important, like the sound of Isaac’s sigh as he rests his head in Tommy’s lap. He would have overlooked these small moments a few months ago - particular points in time that he can enjoy and share simply for what they are.

The Tommy he used to be would have run scared before he would have admitted that this is what it takes to make him happy. Now he’s found a different rhythm in his life - a little less driven, maybe, but he’s okay with that. He’s mostly okay with everything these days, and that’s a place his mind never got to before. 

The Tommy who came to the mountain would have rushed through this without noticing the perfect warmth and weight of Isaac resting on him. He wouldn’t have taken the time to play with the silky neck curls he secretly loves, so soft and loose, that hide just behind Isaac’s ear - the ones that Isaac uses to judge when it’s time to get a haircut.

The old Tommy wouldn’t have noticed how sensitive Isaac’s ears are. He wouldn’t have known that Isaac was more responsive when Tommy licked slowly into the shell of the left ear than the right. He would never have seen the look of total trust and want that comes over Isaac’s face when he takes his time and lives in the moment.

Before, he didn’t know how pleasurable it was to give and not always take; to care about someone else and not just himself. But he’s learned more than a few things in the last couple of months, thanks to Isaac. One of the things he’s learned is that when you care for someone, like, really fucking care, you _want_ to give more than you get. Life isn’t a contest anymore. He doesn’t have to make sure he gets his fair share, because Isaac’s always willing to give him as much as he needs. Like right now, for instance. He knows Isaac’s giving him a chance to think, giving him the time he needs to work through things without questioning him. Tommy appreciates it so much that he leans down and kisses Isaac as deeply and satisfyingly as he can, and it feels like it goes on forever. It feels like fucking life, itself.

He lets his fingers wander over Isaac’s chest, unconsciously marking the cords of the song he’s humming as he pushes Isaac’s shirt up and out of his way. He likes to think of it as Isaac’s song. It’s not slow, not fast - more laid back than anything, and sweet in the same ways Isaac is. He can’t help smiling at the way Isaac’s muscles sometimes twitch and jump when his touch turns more tickling.

They don’t say much. They don’t have to. He loves it when Isaac talks dirty to him, his smile turning into something else as the most wonderfully filthy words come out of it. When they’re into the hard and fast, the downright _fucking_ that they both need sometimes, Isaac surprises him with the nasty side that comes out to play. He can take Tommy’s breath away with his words, and then take his body to places he’d never dreamed of.

But this time it’s about the quiet. It’s about the slow, sensual discovery of all the secret places they each have. He watches his fingers leaving a trail of shivers in their wake as they touch and glide down Isaac’s neck and over the muscles of his shoulder. He almost loses it when he leans down to let his tongue trace the same path. He just wants a small taste, a little tease. But he can’t stop himself from going for more, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s lost in kissing skin that fucking tastes like everything good in life should taste. Most of all, it tastes like home. 

He takes his time, trying to pull all the emotions from Isaac, but slowly - very, very slowly. He has to fight his own instincts. It’s so fucking hard not to grab as much as he can, as fast as he can. Shit, he wants to devour Isaac - take him in one perfect mouthful, suck him down and make him scream as he comes. 

But he won’t do that. He won’t because he loves seeing Isaac coming apart, unraveling bit by bit; losing himself as Tommy slowly coaxes all restraint out of his body. He won’t because he knows how much Isaac loves this, and it excites Tommy to be able to give it to him. Besides, he’s grown past the point of needing instant gratification.

This right here? This is more about trust than anything. And the fact that Isaac trusts him to be able to give as much as necessary to make this thing they have work is so fucking big in Tommy’s mind. No one has ever had that much faith in him before, but he might be to blame for that - at least partially. He never wanted to have the responsibility of anyone being that dependent on him before. 

But he does now. He wants it so fucking bad. He wants it more and more with each breath he takes, with each kiss, with each touch. He wants to take care of this man - Isaac, _his Isaac_. He wants to make him happy. He wants to be the one to pull the stars down from the sky and give them over to Isaac, to color the world Isaac’s favorite hue, to make every day just a little bit easier.

Isaac trusts him to do that, and that’s enough. 

Right now, right here in the easy stillness of the cabin, safe from the storm and sheltered from its wrath, Tommy takes all the time he needs to find what he wants, to give Isaac what he needs.

He guides them both up and over to the soft rug that’s laid out in front of the fire. This is his favorite place to wait out storms. All the warmth in the world feels like it’s here between them, and when Tommy sees Isaac drop to his knees so prettily, it takes away every breath he has and pulls a sound of longing and possessiveness with it. It’s a small sound, just big enough to carry his desire to Isaac’s ears, but it’s all they need.

He looks down and sees Isaac’s fingers tremble as they work the button and zipper of Tommy’s jeans. He doesn’t know if the trembling is from desire or anticipation or just appreciation of this perfect moment. He doesn’t think it matters much, because he’s feeling all of them, too. 

Tommy feels Isaac pulling his pants down; gentle, strong fingers doing their job so well. He can’t fight the shivers that run through him each time those fingers brush over his skin. There’s a feeling of oneness between them that is so fucking strong when they touch that Tommy has to fight against the tears that prickle at the corners of his eyes. 

Isaac looks up at him then, those warm brown eyes asking the most intimate questions and promising him the world at the same time, and he can’t fight the need to drop to his own knees because they are one, neither one of them more or less than the other. As he does, Isaac’s hands trace the lines of his sides, pushing his shirt up as they go. Tommy lifts his arms without being asked, and Isaac pulls the tee up and off.

This is the perfect time, the communion between them deafening in its silence. This is when he feels more open and vulnerable than he can ever remember feeling before. This is all so new and precious, this letting someone else in so far that they almost share their entirety, and it’s a special thing that Tommy’s gonna hold in his heart forever.

He tries to tell Isaac some of what he’s feeling as they kneel there, facing each other, but the quiet, hesitant whispers turn into kisses, and the slow wet tease of Isaac’s tongue in his mouth makes Tommy forget what he was trying to say.

Not that it matters. Words aren’t fucking necessary.

He lays Isaac down on the rug, exploring and mapping every part of his body with his hands and mouth. He can’t resist the soft skin of the inside of Isaac’s thighs, any more than he can ignore the sparse stubble that covers Isaac’s chin or the velvety weight of Isaac’s dick. He wants to feel them all at once, mark them and taste them and keep them forever. 

Instead, he makes his unhurried way from one point to the next, watching Isaac arch and squirm and buck beneath him, and it’s a sight he’ll keep in his heart as long as he lives. He kisses the corner of Isaac’s mouth, imagining the smile that’s usually there. He sucks a mark on Isaac’s neck, right over his pulse point, and it feels like the safest, most comfortable spot in the world. 

Tommy works his way down to Isaac’s collarbone, licking into the hollows on either side of it, loving the way Isaac falls apart as he does it. He’d love to have the patience to do this all day - not take it any further, just taste and feel and touch and react until they’re both exhausted, but he seriously fucking doubts that he’ll ever be able to do that.

So he touches carefully, fingertips barely making contact with Isaac’s skin. He thinks it might be teasing in any other setting, but here it’s just right. It’s all they can take right now, and the ghosting touch of Isaac’s hands on his back is the most sensuous thing he’s ever felt. 

He has to work hard to remember to breathe, and when he does, it’s Isaac that he breathes in. His warmth, his scent, his love. And that little word right there at the end? That tiny, little four letter word? It’s what he’s spent his whole life running from, because it scared him shitless. 

Love means so much more than a racing pulse and having fucking stars in your eyes. Love means no more searching, no more playing at life. It’s big, and it’s real, and it’s right here between them. And Tommy knows it’s here to stay, because he’d give anything - or give up anything - to keep it safe.

He holds Isaac close for a second; some small part of him running scared that this could all be taken away from him. But Isaac holds him right back, and Tommy lets the strength he feels there push away all the worry. No one’s ever been able to do that for him before. There’s never been anyone in his life who felt this strong and right and forever.

And for the first time in his life, forever doesn’t feel confining.

Forever and after and always feels just right when Tommy feels Isaac letting his hands drift over him with barely there touches, bringing him back to their shared, unhurried, present. Sometimes the anxieties still work their way into Tommy’s brain, but Isaac can help him push them back out with the smallest contact, and that makes life so easy, so good.

Tommy goes back to his slow exploration of Isaac, because that’s what their forever gives him. He’s got time to kiss each rib, to feel the muscles in Isaac’s back ripple and stretch, to enjoy the way the skin stretches over his hipbones and the way it pulls in to his navel.

He kisses patterns and traces words on Isaac’s chest, knowing that Isaac would let him color them all in with the most beautiful marks if Tommy wanted to. He takes his time sucking a nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue roll over it, loving the hard, wet feel of it as a small moan of need escapes Isaac’s mouth that goes straight to Tommy’s dick, before he goes on to the other. 

There’s not much softness about Isaac’s body, but Tommy plays with what there is. He loves how Isaac’s okay with letting him do this. Isaac’s not afraid to let Tommy find the unprotected vulnerability in him. It’s not something he’s ashamed of, but it’s not something he shares with anyone else, and Tommy thinks that’s just so fucking sexy, he could die.

Tommy feels his dick, full and hard, aching with need, and he’s amazed that Isaac can make him feel that way without even touching it. Isaac’s hands and mouth have been just as busy as Tommy’s, but neither one of them is in any hurry to end this, and Tommy knows that if Isaac so much as breathes on his dick right now, he’ll come all over both of them. He knows that they’ll get there eventually, just not yet. There’s no rush today.

He traces the path of Isaac’s bottom rib, first with his fingers, then his mouth. He loves the way Isaac’s usually flat stomach falls away each time Tommy makes him gasp, his lungs filling with air and anticipation in a way that makes Tommy want to take care of him always.

Tommy’s tongue draws a wet trail down the middle of Isaac’s chest while his fingers play in the soft hairs that swirl around his navel. He’s collecting all the small sounds that Isaac’s giving him; their specialness lies in the knowledge that they don’t have to be shouted. They’re personal and not meant to be shared outside the two of them.

He can’t help letting his tongue dip into Isaac’s navel because he knows what reaction it’ll have. And when he sees the full body shiver that goes through Isaac, Tommy matches it with one of his own. He would stay here longer - hours, days, whatever, but he can’t. There’s something so goddamn intimate about it, and it pulls right at his core, down deep in his belly, and he knows he’s gonna lose it too soon if he doesn’t move now.

So he crosses over to Isaac’s hip, and the sharp angles and tight muscles are the perfect place to leave a mark. He loves the way Isaac’s skin stretches so tightly over the bone, delicate almost, and tempting as hell. It feels like a place of invitation and challenge, of soft skin and hard ridges and coiled muscle. It’s a private place that Isaac lets him explore and claim for himself. 

He moves down to the spot where the long muscle of Isaac’s thigh tapers down to sensitive nerve endings, watching the way Isaac bucks as Tommy traces the crease with the tip of his tongue. He can tell that Isaac’s close by the tiny, pleading sounds that aren’t anywhere close to words that he’s making now. They’re quiet, little articulations; just big enough to make it to Tommy’s ears if he listens hard enough, just _there_ , caressing him, holding him, making his dick so fucking hard that he has to take a second to press the heel of his hand against it, because, damn, he needs it, but he doesn’t want this to end just yet. They don’t need to shout their passion to the world like in some damn romance novel. Fuck the world and what it knows or thinks. This is just about them, for them.

Tommy traces the crease around to Isaac’s inner thigh, watching the goosebumps rise with the teasing touch. His cheek brushes the hairs that grow soft and curled as he makes his way past, and he hears another hint of a sound coming from Isaac. 

Tommy’s pretty well lost in what he’s doing, but not so lost that he doesn’t notice how completely Isaac’s given himself over to whatever happens. Isaac would stay balanced on the edge like this all day and all night if Tommy wanted to keep him there, and that’s a fucking sexy thought. He gets off on the idea that Isaac’s so confident in him that he’ll let him do whatever he wants without question.

Tommy holds Isaac’s leg as he lets his mouth and fingers drift down the inside of Isaac’s thigh, stopping to appreciate anything and everything that catches his attention along the way. He’s always loved the satiny feel of the skin there, usually untouched and all the more sensitive because of it. He watches the involuntary quiver of Isaac’s muscles and gives back an almost silent moan. He doesn’t want the sound of his voice to distract Isaac. He only wants to see how deeply Isaac loses himself in this.

Tommy rests a second when he gets to the back of Isaac’s knee. This is another of his favorite places, and he can’t even begin to work out why. He just knows that the skin is soft, the muscles and tendons feel so strong, and he can feel Isaac’s pulse. He feels a tremor move through his body as he draws in a deep breath, and it’s all Isaac. He feels at home here in some fucked up way. He can’t get over how much Isaac has to trust him to be secure and unworried in such a vulnerable position. But looking at Isaac’s face, Tommy knows concern is probably the last thing he’s feeling.

He stays there enjoying himself as long as he can, but there are other places he wants to explore. He’s always had this tiny, little _thing_ about feet. He’s not ashamed of it. It’s just that he rarely has the time to indulge in it. Before Isaac, sex was almost always just about getting off: first and foremost, his pleasure, and hopefully his partner got something out of it too. He never really took the initiative to find out what little treasures there were on the way. 

But, today? Yeah, today’s not rushed, and he can luxuriate in something he’s always denied himself. He kisses the tip of each of Isaac’s toes before sucking them into his mouth, one at a time. He works his way from the smallest to the biggest, giving each one his undivided attention in its turn. 

Tommy can feel the tickling pull in the pit of his belly as he sucks them into his mouth and lets his tongue dance and play while his hand strokes over the rise of Isaac’s arch and the curve of his heel. There’s no way to describe to anyone else what it is about this that he finds so erotic, but he doesn’t even have to try, because Isaac just lets him do it, no questions asked. Isaac’s good that way; he’ll let Tommy have his fun because he knows Tommy would never take without giving too. Nothing in this relationship is one-sided, not even Isaac himself, so Tommy switches to Isaac’s other foot, and makes his way slowly back up the other side.

Tommy never noticed, but sometime while he was lost in toe sucking, Isaac had managed to pull a packet of lube and a condom out of the pocket of his pants that were still lying in a heap next to him. Tommy has to smile a little when he sees them laid out on Isaac’s stomach, because it just shows how much more he gets out of the foot thing than Isaac does, but Isaac still lets him play.

And he’s planning on starting to play seriously right now.

Tommy doesn’t even try to fight the urge to lick his lips when he sees Isaac’s dick standing right up in front of him. He can’t wait to feel the silky, heavy weight of it in his mouth; the head slipping past the back of his throat, making him try to swallow it all down. He’s gonna take the time to play there tonight, but not quite yet. He’s got one more stop along the way. 

His fingers are shaking a little as he tears open the packet of lube. He doesn’t care, though. He’s comfortable with whatever he’s feeling tonight. He can feel the pressure building to a slow burn right in his center, but knowing that Isaac’s fine with what he’s doing, he’s gonna let it burn just a little longer. 

He could rush through prepping Isaac, but that wouldn’t fit the mood. He wants to savor it; he wants to get everything he can out of it, and give Isaac everything he can possibly give. Besides, there’s no way in hell he can fight the rhythm of the night. There’s an easy pull and sway going on between them that feels so natural and so right, and he can feel a hard pulse in his dick that matches it perfectly.

Tommy drizzles enough lube on his fingers to make things good for Isaac and for himself. He takes a deep breath as he lets his finger draw small circles around Isaac’s hole. He traces around and around the opening, spreading the slickness, while he just breathes on Isaac’s dick. He has a plan, and timing is important, just as it has been all night.

He bites his lip as he watches Isaac. The man is a mix of coiled power and gentility, and all of it’s laid out right in front of Tommy like a buffet. The dreamy, sensual look on Isaac’s face is one of the prizes Tommy’s been working for, but not the only one. 

Tommy feels a shiver run through him when he lets his finger breach the ring of muscles that surround Isaac’s opening, knowing those muscles are yielding just for him. Tommy lets his mouth drop down on Isaac’s cock, so hard and dark and ready after all the buildup, and he’s rewarded with a low moan that carries more eloquence than any poetry.

He sets a rhythm in cut time for his mouth and fingers. His internal metronome is going off at forty beats per minute, and it’s exquisite torture. Tommy savors the taste of the beads of precum, spreading them out over Isaac’s dick as he moves up and down the shaft, his tongue teasing just under the head and dipping into the slit. His finger moves inside of Isaac, working the lube in as far as he can before adding a second.

When he starts scissoring his fingers, Isaac starts bucking up, fucking Tommy’s mouth in the same tempo that Tommy’s been hearing in his head, his body, his heartbeat all night. It catches and echoes inside Tommy, and the whole of his world turns into adagio perfection. 

Tommy thinks he could turn sappy and cheesy with thoughts of moving to the beat of his own drummer, but that would take his concentration away from what’s really important right now - keeping Isaac trapped with him in their own special rhythm.

He works at opening Isaac, not rushing, just enjoying the slow drag of his fingers slipping in and out and back and forth as his mouth travels up and down Isaac’s dick. He licks and sucks and tastes and teases, all but worshiping the damn thing. 

He loves how Isaac can’t hold back the sounds he needs to make anymore. They’re not loud or crowing, just enough to keep Tommy in the cocoon of here and now. They’re sounds that help him focus and let him lose himself at the same time. 

They’re sounds he can’t help mirroring, and when he does, feeling how the back of his throat tightens around Isaac’s cock as he moans, he feels Isaac’s dick twitch, and he knows that as much as he’s enjoying this, it’s time to move on.

Tommy hooks his arms under Isaac’s knees, bending Isaac in half as he kisses his way back up. Legs, belly, chest, neck - all of them get attention before Tommy finally finds Isaac’s mouth again. He lets his tongue explore while he tries to work the condom open. It shouldn’t be such a hard operation, but he’s not exactly concentrating on that part. 

He can’t seem to make his hands stay away from Isaac long enough to get it done. He keeps touching and stroking and just feeling. Tommy leans in so his forehead touches Isaac’s, breaths and quiet words shared between them, while his hand dances down Isaac’s chest in the softest, almost there touches. They’re both so sensitive, so _ready_ , that it’s the most exquisite agony that Tommy’s ever known. He’s never going to get his fill of seeing and holding this pliant, willing man.

He fumbles opening the easy-open packet twice before Isaac takes pity on him. With a whispered, “Let me, beb," Isaac reaches down to open it and roll it on. Tommy doesn’t try to stop the hiss of his quick indrawn breath. He couldn’t stop it if he wanted to. Feeling Isaac’s hands rolling the condom down the length of his dick is just the wrong side of too much, and Tommy has to bite his lip to keep from coming. Each touch, each brush of Isaac’s fingers, sends shocks of pressure and electricity from his dick to his belly to his brain, and somehow they’re all connected.

Isaac makes a move to reach for the lube packet, but there’s no fucking way Tommy would be able to last through that, so with a kiss to Isaac’s fingertips, Tommy picks up the lube himself and spreads it over the condom. He pinches the head of his cock, hoping it’s enough to keep him from going off too soon, but even that contact feels too good right now.

Taking a deep breath, Tommy positions himself. He pushes just the head inside Isaac, getting lost in the warm slick closeness. He pushes Isaac’s legs up tight against his chest as he leans in to press his lips against Isaac’s. The absolute sweetness and perfection of the moment is frozen and preserved in a mental snapshot that won’t fade with time.

He waits a beat, maybe two. He’s not sure of anything right now. He takes enough time to catch his breath and focus on every little sensation. He doesn’t want to let anything go past in the heat of passion. Tonight is all about them and learning each other from the inside out.

Tommy realizes he’s whispering. He’s telling Isaac all the things he’s feeling; all the emotions, all the sensory experiences, all the ways his body’s reacting. It’s a small thing, a strange thing, but it’s something he’s never done before, not even with Isaac. He thinks it’s because he never thought anyone would care before. He never thought it would be important enough to anyone else. It’s cathartic and familiar and perfect, and he can feel the sting of tears threatening again because it’s so, so much to try and take in all at once.

He would probably stay like that, eyes leaking tears, lost in the overwhelming totality of the night, if it weren’t for Isaac. But Isaac’s whispering right back to him, telling him that it’s all perfectly okay, and everything he’s feeling and saying is beautiful because it’s _real_. It’s when Isaac reaches up and strokes Tommy’s cheek that he breaks.

He breaks so hard that he can feel the protective shell he’s worn all his life crack wide open. He can feel all the feelings that he’s kept hidden his whole life flooding out, covering them both. He can feel all the things he’s denied himself calling out in relief at finally being recognized, and he knows that even in the middle of coming apart, he’s more whole than he’s ever been.

Tommy holds Isaac closer, holds him a little tighter, and slowly slides all the way inside. His words that turned to tears have turned to promises and encouragement, because he knows that no matter how slow and easy the pace is, he’s not going to last long. The tender, dolce strokes as he pushes in and pulls out aren’t going to hold back the pressure he can feel building, so before he comes, he reaches down and wraps his hand around Isaac’s dick, the sound not much more than a ragged breath as he asks, “Please?”

That one touch, that one word, is all it takes to bring Isaac to orgasm. Isaac’s hips buck up, and his body goes tight and taut as the warmth of the fluid drips off Tommy’s hand and stomach. Tommy wants to watch that look play over Isaac’s face: the half-hooded eyes that can’t waste the effort to open or close all the way, the Mona Lisa smile that hides secrets of satisfaction, the arch of Isaac’s neck as he gives everything he has to what he’s feeling.

Tommy wants to watch it, but when he feels Isaac’s muscles tightening around him, pulling him in even deeper, he loses seconds or minutes or even hours and days for all he knows as he comes. 

He does know that they lie there, holding and stroking and touching until the fire burns mellow, the shadow of the flames flickering softly instead of crackling. He feels Isaac brush the hair away from his forehead before giving him the sweetest kiss he’s ever gotten, and Tommy can’t believe that there could ever be a more perfect moment than this.

He pulls the soft blanket that was draped on the chair over them and spends a few minutes just looking into Isaac’s eyes. He knows they’ll more than likely fall asleep before long, and he wants to make sure Isaac doesn’t get chilled before they wake again. He likes taking care of Isaac when he gets the chance.

It took him some time to trust that Isaac was looking out for him just because he wanted to, but when that hit him, when it was so abso-fucking-lutely clear that he couldn’t hide from it anymore, it broke something in him. It broke the walls that kept people away, and it broke the walls that kept him safe. Isaac keeps him safe now, and Tommy? Tommy’s okay with that.


End file.
